Fantasma
by Kat of Mosh Pits
Summary: If you love something you have to let it go. If it comes back then it is yours forever, but if it doesn’t then it never belonged to you in the first place. A Leonardo story.
1. Prolog

Disclaimer: If I owned TMNT, there would be a lot more blood, a lot less side characters.

**Fantasma**

_Prolog_

**S**trangely enough, Leonardo thought that the jungle was darker at night than the sewers of New York. It had something to do with all that life filling each bush and tree with potential dangers. In the sewers, he could allow his senses to expand to fill the entire tunnel, but the cramped foliage forced his attentions to forever scan the immediate area.

His ninja training came in excellent use while he slept. During the first three months of his training here, he slept in snatches, his nerves on edge for any change in his surroundings. Unlike the other places he had traveled during his training, this was the first place that he couldn't just fade into the background in able to survive. He had to learn how to force his dominance in his new 'territory', to drive predators away and allow him a couple of hours of real sleep. Already good at masking his presence, he had to learn how to vanish completely.

He watched humans stumble, oblivious of him merely inches away. Unlike in the city, these people knew the dangers of remaining ignorant of their surroundings. They peered into shadows, treading carefully, and didn't linger. They respected the majesty of the jungle.

It was often poachers that regularly invaded the area, hunting for exotic animals to be sold for a high price back in the city. They came with nets, knives, guns, and steel-teethed traps. After Leo found a sloth that had bled to death, its furred arm broken in two from such a trap, he began trying to drive the men away.

It started with carefully moving traps until they lined the trees just on the edge of his territory. Then he allowed his presence to be sighted in sudden flashes just in the corner of their eyes. He slashed trees with his swords to provide warnings as they entered his domain, hoping that they would steer clear from such an obvious threat.

He succeeded in driving the novices away, but the more skilled were thrilled at what seemed a worthy quarry. They came every few weeks, hunting for the mysterious beast that lined deep scores into trees. It was this same beast that eluded capture and left poachers unconscious on the line between civilization and the wild. Sometimes they survived with only long gashes that forced them to a hospital bed, but others would arrive with less than what they left with.

One man, face deeply scarred from an old wound with a tiger, would occasionally tell of a creature with skin of a chameleon, able to vanish with a breath of air, more cunning than a fox, and swifter than the silent-winged owl.

"It would come out of the very trees around us and vanish into the bark a moment later. My brothers and I had placed steel traps around the area where it was most often sighted. We lined the whole area so that no centimeter was left open, and covered them with leaves so that no gleam would shine through. We waited hours. The sun was just slipping away when it came. It glided across the clearing, so fast that the traps sprang with only air to catch. Before we could move, it was on us, slicing our cover bare with long, silver talons.

"We raised our guns only for them to fall to pieces in our hands. For one moment it stood over us just as the shadows fell. Its eyes pierced through the darkness," he shuddered, adjusting his one-handed grip on his bottle. "Just like blue fire, they were, searing through our skins to reveal our very souls to it. My sins laid bare in front of me. In fear, I scrabbled back. I remember tearing pain all through my arm before it going black.

"The next thing I knew I was in the hospital with my arm bandaged. The doctors told me that I had put my hand in one of my own traps. The creature had led my brothers out of the jungle, they said, carrying me, it forever staying just in the shadows.

"Well," he would always finish, rubbing his stubbed wrist, "I don't care what the other poachers say, it is no beast. It is a spirit of the jungle, given form to protect its territory from the likes of humans."

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Leonardo had no calendar, and in the jungle it was hard enough keeping track of the passing weeks, however, he felt it in his heart the dawn of his sixth month in Central America. It had been one year since he began his training. Today was the day he was supposed to return to his family.

It was such a far-away thought. His world back in New York felt like a dream, nothing like the vibrant colors and sheer, deadly beauty of the jungle. Everything felt so much more real than back in the city. Even the air had more texture. He felt at home here, in a way that he never did back in the city.

He lay awake that morning, feeling the heavy humidity sooth his stiff muscles, and found himself wishing he could stay. Stiffening immediately at the thought, he sat up. No, he had to leave. This place was only allowed to him for six months for training. Master Splinter had sent him here to become a better leader.

A good leader would never have such thoughts of abandonment. _I have failed_, he realized. He spent the entirety of his training learning dominance and intimidation, not humility and wisdom. A leader cannot simply force his teammates to do his will. He had to earn their respect and follow him out of belief in his abilities. There was no way his brothers would listen to him the way he was now.

He would stay one more month. One month shouldn't make that much of a difference back home. However, it was easy to lose track of time in the jungle.

It really was easy. A week later, the scent of smoke drifted through the air. Following it, in case some poachers camping out hadn't scattered the ashes of their fire properly, he found himself in the neighboring territory, staring out at a village set aflame. As they were out of Leonardo's claimed territory, all he could do was keep a watchful eye on them.

His territory neighbored what the villagers believed to be a Boar spirit. It was, in fact, a man that had killed a giant boar. He wore its skin, sharpened its tusks into great sickles, and used them to kill any who violated his territory. Leo had been chased off quite a few times until they had reached a sort of truce when the turtle had saved his life.

"You are no spirit," Leonardo had said after, cleaning the jaguar blood from his swords.

"You are no man," he had gruffed in return. "Nor are you a beast, for no beast would show compassion to another in danger."

"No spirit would fear mortal harm."

The man snorted. "What is a thing but a belief given form. I may have been born a man, but I am a spirit of hope to these people who cannot ask for help anywhere else. I am the Boar Spirit, because they_believe _me to be. However, a boar who is a man can still be killed, no matter how sharp his tusks."

Leonardo was given free passage through the Spirit's territory, but forbidden to lend any aid. This was the wild, after all. If you could not survive on your own, you could not survive. For the most part, Leo was fine with the arrangement. After years of dealing with other people's problems it was nice to meet someone who was of the same mind as him.

So, Leo watched the fire be extinguished by what looked like the same men who set it to begin with, before it could set the trees aflame. There were dozens of them, pouring through the village in what appeared to be old guerilla uniforms, guns slung on their backs.

He continued to watch, back in the decreasing security of his own domain, as they tore through the growth and chopped down trees to light the forge for more guns. He saw the dead men carted away, their bodies ripped to pieces by blades of bone.

When Leo saw the beaten carcass on the pole he felt little sadness. There was no room for sadness here. The jungle swallowed it. Slipping noiselessly through the trees, he found a broken sickle lying under the charred remains of an animal pelt. Leo stuck the sickle into his frayed belt and buried the ashes.

The men in the village cowered in superstitious fear when the full moon rose to reveal one of their own pinned several feet in the air to a tree with a great sickle in his throat.

These men were no poachers. They did not simply hunt game, but weakness. They struck the unaware, torching and pillaging where they pleased. They had killed a Spirit of the Jungle, and the Jungle screamed for revenge.

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He had honestly been surprised to see her in such a place. The moment she had wandered into his territory he had known. Months of constant war with the guerilla-men allowed his senses to widen. Like in the first months in this place, he slept little and patrolled the area like an injured animal, never trusting a moment's peace to allow himself to be vulnerable. He had a larger area to protect after the Boar Spirit had died, and the men had grown cocky in their increasing numbers.

He was becoming very good at disguising his marks. It came to him one evening as he skewered another warning on the tree facing the corrupted village. They feared only a ghost, and a ghost couldn't stop them from desecrating the jungle elsewhere. What they needed to fear was the jungle itself.

Katas only taught you so much, he soon learned. It honed your body to react without having to think. However, when an enemy came that did not fight in the way that allowed direct attacks to be of use, he had to create his own way. He taught himself finesse. With a few quick movements he could make his strikes look like claws, or with a few careful thrusts, he made men's faces covered in beak and talon marks.

However, this group was proving exceedingly stubborn. Most of them had come from environments very much like this. They knew how to use the area to their advantage and more than once Leo had near misses with carefully rigged traps. And still they continued on, invading the small villages in their path, forcing the women to work the bellows and driving the young men to the ground with their guns.

There was very little he could do for the villages. Only when they passed through his lands was when he was free to allow the jungle to tear them apart.

A few weeks ago he came across a dead boar skeleton and had been fashioning its bones into sickles. He occasionally left little reminders of what happened to those who crossed him. His boarders to the south were littered with them. They were left to rot on the trees, the humans too afraid to even remove the corpses for fear of being cursed.

"Hello?" the voice painfully, impossibly familiar, called out across the distance to him. He had sensed her moments before, but never thought the human would actually make such a stupid mistake, making herself known like that. That meant she couldn't have been from the area. The villagers knew better than to draw attention to themselves with all the predators nearby.

"Is anyone there?!"

_No, it couldn't be._ A snap and the human yelped as the rush of breaking branches indicated her fall. Not far, he arrived in seconds, in time to catch her before she hit the ground.

Yes, it was.

"Leo?"

April.

Listening to April tell about his brothers drove a red-hot poker of guilt into his heart. Not once had he felt homesick, not once had he even given them more than a passing thought in this past year. The idea of going back raised his hackles. He couldn't leave now! Why did he always have to come running to save them? Why was it his responsibility to pick them up when they fell? They would never survive out here. Not even Raphael, the red-masked turtle thrived in the city, but out here with his temperament the jungle would eat him alive.

Had it truly been a year already? Too much had happened and too little had changed. Now he had more reason than ever to be unable to go back. He had a responsibility to these people. He had to honor the Boar Spirit in the only way the man had known, in blood. He couldn't return with accomplishing nothing. He had not changed since a year ago. He hadn't improved his leadership skills at all. He hadn't had the time. Not with the men forever pushing at his boundaries. How could he return, not only a failure to his family, but to his villages?

April was gone. She had tried to find him again, but he faded into the background, his skin allowing the perfect hue to camouflage him easily. He followed her to make sure she remained safe, but refused to reveal himself. Finally, she had given up. Just before she passed into civilized lands she had turned back and spoke to the jungle with a final,

"Your brothers _need _you, Leo."

Leo watched her go, a heavy weight in his heart. His head was whirling in a way he had purged from his mind during the early days of his training. Constant worry about his brothers' state without him left him unable to concentrate and nearly killed him a few times.

However, this still wasn't the time. He knew what he had to do.

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It was fitting that the night was so similar to the one so many months ago. Silvery light filtered down through the trees, the full moon illuminating the jungle and casting spells of false images in the shifting shadows.

Leonardo crouched patiently beneath a manzano's wide leaves at the boundary between the jungle and the village. The village was alight with torches, heavily armed men passing through the flickering light. That was good. All that light ruined their night-vision.

He had to do this fast. Unlike before, when he had infiltrated enemy bases, he didn't have his brothers to back him up. This night, however, he was grateful. Subtlety and stealth were needed, and it would be easier for him to slip in and out without having to worry about his brothers.

This village was the first to fall in the guerrilla's reign. Even now he felt slight unease at being so deep in the Boar Spirit's former territory. The markers may have faded but the force of his presence remained.

From what he had overheard over the past year, there were three main bosses of the group. He had never actually seen them, as they preferred to stick to main roads and civilized areas. However, he could guess at where they were at. At the center of huts was a heavily lit area, sounds of laughing and cutlery were easy to discern in the night air.

There. His swords slipped silently out of his sheaths. A breath later the manzano only occupied a small, sleeping, pewee bird.

Leo moved swiftly, his feet barely touching the ground for longer than a split second as he crossed the distance to the first hut. Pressing himself against the wall, he spied around the corner in time to see a guard pass just under the torch. Perfect timing, night-vision was the worst the closer you are to light. In a flash, he darted out and in a move reminiscent of a boa, wrapped an arm around his neck, snapping it easily. Keeping his eyes lowered to avoid the light, he dragged the body back to his wall, the whole action taking no longer than a few seconds.

Staring out into the darkness of the jungle beyond, he allowed his vision to clear from the glare of light. Breathing easily, he moved on, making his way silently from alcove to alcove, letting the darkness swallow him from view.

Leo could feel his blood singing. It had been far too long since he'd done more than defend. Adrenalin pumped through his veins and he had to fight a grin from his face. It wouldn't do to get too cocky, and even the whites of his teeth could give away his position if the light were to fall the wrong way.

Body after body fell, blood splattered macabre patterns across his neck and face. His ears filled with the gargled cries of the men drowning in their own blood. He could taste the metallic sheen in the air, along with the burning scent of smoke from the torches.

The main tent was only a few feet away, the guards outside stiff with nerves. If they had heard anything substantial then they would have sent one to come look, so the fear had to be of those inside.

Leo shifted his grip on his swords, contemplating. There was no way he could kill one without the other three noticing. The only thing to do was to rush in and try and take them all down as fast as possible.

The first fell without a sound, blood spraying from where his head used to be. The other guards stood frozen for a moment at the sight of a great, green and blood-soaked beast, its eyes burning into their souls. One opened his mouth, only to have the scream cut off as frozen steel sliced through his neck. Leo spun, thrusting his sword forward through one's eye and the other back to disembowel the last guard in a single motion.

The last guard screamed, the sound shattering the calming sound of falling crimson rain.

Rising, Leo drove his blade into the guard's neck, severing the vocal cords and the sound cut off.

The noise from within the tent had fallen silent. Unable to stop a crooked grin, Leo raised his swords and sliced through the tent flap.

Inside were eight men, all heavily muscled and scarred. There were a few women looking half starved and with dark bruises all along their skin. All faces turned to face him, a forgotten feast lay spread out before them.

"Who are you?!" A man at the end of the table half-rose, a dark mustache half hid his mouth that was formed into a sneer.

Leo could imagine how he looked in the flickering torchlight. A monster, a great turtle with blood-coated skin and swords, behind him lay the bodies of their guards, crimson pooling around them. The shadows cast an almost demonic look across his features.

"It's the Ghost!" A man cried, choking on his own tongue as Leo's gaze flickered to him.

"_Ghost_?" Mustache spat, "Just as the decrepit old man was a boar spirit, right? No, there is no such thing as _ghosts_." He reached under the table and pulled out a gun, leveling it at Leo's chest. "Now be still, _monstruo._"

At Mustache's actions, the other men drew their own guns. The women pressed back together into a corner, eyes wide in fear.

"_Mátele!"_

Leo dove just as the bangs sounded. Bullets whizzed by his head, one managing to brush his arm, sending a brief line of searing pain. Spinning, Leo landed on all fours for a moment before springing up. The tip of his sword caught the ground briefly as Leo brought it in an upward sweep. One down, he pivoted, his sword sang through the air as it sliced through flesh and bone. He counted his breaths, ducking behind thick bodies to guard from the guns, his motions sleek, a predator in his element. Blood splattered the tent walls, making slick pools he had to watch his footing around.

At last, only Mustache remained, his face crimson in anger as he drew his machete. "Come on, _monstruo_! You have no idea what you're dealing with!"

Leo tilted his head towards him, the last body sliding with a dull thud from his sword.

"I am dealing with a man. Not a belief, nor a spirit, nor a hope. Only a thing that will die a forgotten death in the mud." He raised his sword.

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The flashes of the moon through the canopy of branches showed it suspended in swollen satisfaction, having feasted on the blood spilled this night.

The jungle, packed full of life and death, and the very air damp with mystery, held a secret that only the very few, very wise know. There was a reason beyond the simple preservation of wildlife that kept such lands free of much human influence. Areas of earth filled with that much raw vitality causes a shift, bringing it that much closer to the edge of reality. That much more dangerous.

A full moon, drunk on blood spilled by his sword, by malice and revenge, cast a dark omen across the land. He had allowed it access, given the demon a hole to slip its way through. Now it was loose in the world, the Scent filling its slit nose.

Time to hunt.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**I**t started as a simple training exercise. They had been running a patrol across the rooftops, Leonardo in the lead with his brothers battling for second. Raphael, a born sprinter, managed a quick burst of speed that shoved him ahead of Michelangelo. A smug grin passed across his face as he locked eyes with his new target. Leo laughed.

"Come on, Raph! Can't keep up?"

"Oh, I'll do more than keep up, sword-boy!" Raphael lunged, using Leonardo's shoulders for leverage to leap-frog into the lead. Leo stumbled, catching his footing in time to see Raphael toss him a taunting wave. Leo frowned. "That's it!"

Of all of his brothers, Leonardo glorified most in his speed. His weapons of choice required quick darts and swift movements to parry killing blows without truly harming. It took a lot more skill to use dual swords to incapacitate without maiming, and Leo was good at what he did. There was no way he was losing to Raph.

After a brief tensing of leg muscles, he shot forward. Using Raphael's head to do a one-handed cartwheel, he threw the red-masked turtle back and was again in the lead. Violent streams of curses followed him as Leo used the momentum of the flip to throw himself across two buildings.

"LEO!"

Too late Leo realized the next building was too far to leap. Quickly, before he reached the top of his arch through the sky, Leo yanked a mass of coiled steel wire out and, drawing a sword, he wrapped the end tightly around the hilt. His stomach began to bottom out as he began to fall. Drawing back his arm he threw his sword, the wire unfurling rapidly behind. Gripping hard, Leo felt the shudder as his sword stuck and the line grew taut. He breathed out as he descended in a controlled arc, his feet landing silently against the wall of the far building.

As he reached the top, winding the wire back together, he glanced across the large empty space between the two buildings, and waved.

"SHOW OFF!" Raph's shout echoed.

"THAT WAS AWESOME!" Mikey's voice followed, filled with glee. "DO THAT AGAIN!"

Leo looked at his hands, thick, red lines of welts crisscrossed them and he doubted he could do that again without injuring himself. _Note to self: Bring leather gloves._

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Leo shouted, "BACK TO THE LAIR. WINNER GETS THE REMOTE!" and took off.

He loved nights like these. The breeze was cool with just a kiss of rain. Clouds hid the night sky and seemed to absorb the light of the city. It was _his _time. The shadows lay thick and undisturbed in the absence of the moon and stars. He slid through, light and fast with no worry of a sudden break in the overhead parting the shadows and exposing his position.

It was a good night. By making that jump, Leo had gained a full ten minutes on his brothers, who would have to backtrack to take a different way. For a full ten minutes, he was alone.

Ten minutes. Leonardo slowed, breathing deep, calming breaths. The rooftop felt cold under the hardened soles of his feet. Oxygen filled his body as he inhaled deeply, his senses seeming to expand beyond himself, beyond the rooftop, to encompass the whole city for a brief moment. It was a beautiful night, all deep black and misty rain. There was nothing. No Foot, no street gangs, and, briefly, no brothers. For this stolen moment in time, he felt perfectly at peace.

Home again. Two years gone, one for training and another to his own selfishness. He hadn't been sure what to expect upon his return, afraid that his extended absence would startle his family into reactions less than in their character.

He certainly expected Splinter to be more cross than he was. However, his father had offered him a Hero's Welcome, no questions and even awarding him with a medal. Why?

Raph, at least, remained as predictable as ever, his anger simmering beneath a muted lid for all of 24 hours. Mikey embraced him with all the natural light that they lacked in their home, hidden away from the sun. Yet, while Don's welcome was warm, there was an awkwardness between them that left conversation stilted and wooden. He could understand why, as the next in line Don was placed in the position of leader during Leo's absence, a role that Don didn't have the experience to play.

It wasn't fair to Don, whose temperament was not up to Raph's constant challenges and confrontations. Leo understood that far too well.

Still, he was home, and what was home without aliens from outer-space dropping into his lap his first night back?

Sure it sounds unbelievable, but it goes to show what kind of life he led when it was all part of the norm. Not even a week back and already they had cleaned up someone else's mess. Why was it that it seemed that Leo was the only one who got frustrated by it?

Mikey was always all-too happy to meet new people. His outgoing personality made it hard for him to be stuck in the sewers, cut away from light and life.

Donnie hated violence, but enjoyed any opportunity to expand his knowledge and use his inventions.

Raph… it was hard to tell. So many things angered his brother that is was difficult to find something that he enjoyed. He rarely complained about stepping into a situation, especially if it gave him a chance to beat in a few heads. It was something that Raph could always be counted on.

Leo, however, grew tired of people constantly putting their family in danger, people of whom they had never met before dumping their problems on them and expecting them to fix it. It drove him nuts.

Only one week had passed since his arrival back home. Perhaps it was because they were thrown straight back into the fray, or maybe his time in the jungle had effected more than he had thought, but he couldn't feel particularly pleased about being back home.

He recalled his family's welcome after they had gotten home from saving the world yet again. The warmth that had been missing from their home had returned. Leo smiled slightly. Mikey had jumped around as if it were Christmas morning, and had decided to make a huge breakfast for everyone. His carefree brother flitted in and out of the kitchen as he cooked, as if he couldn't stand to let Leo out of his sight for too long. Eventually, in fear of a blackened breakfast, everyone piled into the kitchen with much laughter.

Don sat as close as he could to his elder brother, something that Leo was grateful for. Although the adrenaline rush as cleared most of the drug out of his system, he still felt slightly muzzy and took comfort in his brother's nearness. Casey and April altered between bickering and chatting with Raph and Splinter respectively. Casey and Raph seemed to be enjoying a play-by-play of the action while his master and April were catching up in their mutual love of soap operas.

The kitchen was loud and active, but Leo felt more relaxed than he had in years.

"Hey, Leo," Mikey spoke up after everyone's mouth was full. Leo tilted his head at him, his mouth busy.

"You haven't told us yet what was it like in the jungle."

Eyes focused on him. Staring at his plate for a long moment, he finally swallowed and said, "Dark."

"Dark?" Don asked, confused.

Leo tapped his fork, trying to find the words in a way they would understand. "The night was simply more dangerous, so I adapted to a more nocturnal schedule most of the time. It was darker than anything we get here, and full. The entire place was crammed with life, every few feet was some new animal or bug, plant or flower. Thousands of things fill every available space."

"Wow," Mikey breathed. "Did you feel like Tarzan there? Did ya learn to speak to animals and become King of the Jungle?"

Leo's mouth quirked. "Not really. It was too big for any one creature to control. There were territories, though. It was sort of like a great network of markers, dividing one space of land from another."

"Cool! Did you have a territory, Leo?"

Leo glanced down. "For a while I sort of sublet a portion of another's territory."

Casey frowned, leaning on the back of the couch. "How does that work? You pay in coconuts or something?"

"There are no coconuts in the jungle, Casey." Don said, mildly.

"Bananas then!"

"Nah," Leo flashed a grin at Mikey, "Tarzan would have killed me if I took his fruit."

"Leonardo, my son."

Leo looked up. Splinter stood in the open door of his room, the candles behind the paper doors casting a muted glow in their master's fur. Straightening, Leo faced his father with accustomed formality. "Yes, Father?"

"I wish to speak with you." Without further explanation, Splinter turned back to his room. The turtles exchanged glances, shrugging.

"Have fun, bro," Mikey offered.

Leo forced a smile, "Always."

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The mist clung to his skin, reminding him of the differences between the wet-humidity of the jungle and the cool, city air, alive with noise and false light even at this time of night. If he could be honest with himself then Leo could admit that here he felt safer than he had ever done in the jungle. Sleep came easier, even though he had yet to readjust to no longer sleeping in quick spurts. Even out in the open he felt as though he could relax his guard.

Except, he didn't.

Something niggled his senses, zeroing his attention on a darker area between two riveted-down sheds. Even most ninja would have probably dismissed this slightly darker area as just another shadow, however, Leo knew that not all shadows were simply thus. Black does not hide as well as most people would think. A stark-black shape in a shadow stands out more than a deep navy or green, which was why the turtles were a little more gifted in that area than most.

Leonardo's eyes narrowed on the spot. It was too small to be a human, even crouched down. Carefully, he drew a sword and padded over to it. His footfalls were not quite silent, the shade would already have seen him standing in the open like that.

A few feet away, he stopped as the thing lifted its head. Crimson slits glowed in the darkness. Leo froze, the hatred, _hunger _in that gaze seared through him. In a flash, he had his swords in his hands, leveling them at the shadow. It didn't move, only continued to stare him down.

"What are you?" Leo barked.

_**You are**__…_

Leo fought against the instinct to jump. The words had skipped his ears and burned like acid into his brain. Shifting his stance, he tried to get a better look at the shadow, but it was too dark. The hunched shape seemed to almost blend into its surroundings, the glowing eyes the only real feature that could be seen.

_**You have what I seek.**_

"I have nothing of yours, leave and I won't hurt you."

The creature grinned, jagged and marred teeth gleaming in the dark.

Leonardo's new blades caught the light of a nearby neon sign. "What do you want?"

_**Blood.**_

It leapt. Faster than Leo expected he threw himself backward. Suddenly illuminated, the creature was grotesquely human shaped, bent, gnarled, and bearing down on him. It grinned in his face, great teeth inches from his nose. Its eyes had gone dark. Darker than night. Darker than thought. Deep in his mind he could feel the desperation of the beast, its soul-consuming hunger. Acid poison running through veins, a creature of pain and hatred bearing sharp, claw-like hands.

His swords screamed through empty air. Righting himself, Leo shook himself, trying to catch sight of the beast.

The rooftop lay empty before him. Leo turned in a full circle, but couldn't seem to catch sight of it. Where-? He spun around again but no matter which way he turned the creature was no where in sight.

For long minutes after, he stayed in position, waiting, unable to put his guard down. However, at long last, he lowered his arms.

_What _was _that thing_?

Leo's trip back to the Lair was tense, but uneventful. He spent extra time backtracking to throw off any pursuers. When he finally got home he was cold and tired and only wanted to fall into bed.

"Hey! You're back!" Mikey cheered as Leo walked into the living area of the Lair. Bounding up, Mikey slung an arm over his brother's shoulders. "What happened? It's been nearly an hour since we got back! Did you get lost or something?"

Leo flashed his younger brother a small smile. Worry tugged at the back of his mind. He had searched for the creature, but it had completely disappeared, not even a smudge in the wet ground hinted that it had been.

"I got distracted, sorry, Mikey. It's a nice night."

"Only you would think this dreary weather was nice, bro," Don commented in passing.

Leo grinned weakly, "It's a little cooler than I'm used to, it's a nice change."

"I should say so! When I put my arm around you just now I could have sworn I touched a ghost! You're as cold as death, dude!"

Shrugging his arm off, Leo looked around, "Where's Raph?"

"His room, I think," Don answered, just before he shut the door to his lab.

Mikey grinned and nudged him in the arm. "He disappeared as soon as we got home. I think he's sulking that he didn't get a chance to try and make that jump."

Leo frowned. "But he doesn't have any wire or rope like I do."

"I know, that's probably why he didn't try."

"Well, I'm glad he didn't, it is a dangerous jump."

"Yeah, but you did it!"

_I hadn't meant to_, Leo stopped himself from saying. It wouldn't do for him to admit he had made such a stupid mistake. It could have ended very badly if Leo hadn't brought his extra supplies. Pushing his younger brother in jest, Leo shook his head. "I'm bushed, Mikey. I think I'm going to head to bed."

"Okay. I'm gonna stay up a bit longer, maybe catch an old movie on TV. Goodnight!"

"Night, Mike." Smiling after his brother, Leo started to bed. As he moved towards the stairs he passed by Splinter's room. The paper doors were open slightly to reveal Splinter in lotus position on the _tatami _mat, his head bowed in meditation, hands held loosely in his lap. Thinking briefly, he moved to his normal seat directly in front of his father and copied the position. For a time only the faint hissing of the burning candles could be heard.

"Is all well, my son?" Splinter asked presently.

Leo kept his eyes shut for a while, his mind turning. Eventually, he looked up and said, "I saw something strange this evening."

"How so?"

"It…was a darkness." Leo stopped, then shook his head. "I'm uncertain what exactly it was, but it attacked me. I fought it off and it vanished. I'm not sure."

"What are you not sure of, my son?"

"It was a monster. A horribly formed beast of some-sort, and yet I was familiar with it."

Splinter looked at him sharply. "You have seen it before?"

"No, Master, and I do not think it knew of me. It probably would have attacked anyone on that roof."

Leo met his Master's eyes. Candlelight flickered, throwing odd shadows dancing and casting strange visages over their faces.

"I will trust you on this, but it worries me. The fact that it is known to you… I wish to meditate on this."

"Yes, Master," Leo went to stand, but Splinter held a hand up and he sat back down.

"On another topic, you have seemed restless lately, my son," Splinter finally spoke.

Leo tilted his head, "How so?"

"In your first few nights home, I have heard you pacing the Lair long through the night. I had thought it was only due to the frustration you had with your brother, Raphael. However, from what I have gathered through your stunt tonight, I wonder if it is something more."

"My stunt?"

"How often is the lesson proven that one must always look before one leaps. This is a lesson that must be understood to be both metaphorical and literal."

Glancing at his hands, Leo noticed them clenched and forced himself to relax. "It was only a game, and there was no harm done."

Splinter opened his eyes, locking them on Leo. "Game or not, it is carelessness like that that will cause an error in a more serious situation. I am only concerned with your safety, my son."

_I can take care of myself,_ is what Leo didn't say, instead simply stating, "Yes, Father."

Splinter eyed him for a long moment. "You will speak to me if this persists?"

"I suppose it is simply taking longer than I expected to get used to the city again, Master. In the jungle there were always vines and holds nearby."

"This is not the jungle, and we must always be prepared for the worst."

_But I was, I had my wire and supplies._ Leo bowed his head and waited until Splinter dismissed him.

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His lungs burned. Chest constricted, he fought not to breathe in the dark, liquid void pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't move against the drowning blackness. Oh god. He was going to die. No! He had to fight this. If only he could move his swords, slice through this oppressive night. If he could just rip through and see his brothers shining on the other side.

_I can't breathe!_

His muscles seized, lungs spasming in silent heaves, fighting against his will to inhale. Tears budded at his eyes as his throat remained clenched shut. Oh god! He couldn't fight this! His own body was betraying him. Breathe and die, dying to breathe.

_I can't-!_

Leo sat up with a gasp. Struggling, he rolled off his bed, his blankets tangled around him. Something ripped, looking down he saw his hands held different portions of his blanket, a long tear down the middle. _Shell_.

Taking a few deep breaths, he rose from the floor next to his _futon_ and went in search for his sewing kit.

That dream again. He had hoped after he had reconciled with Raph and took care of that business with the statues that they would stop. Evidently not. Ever since he had left Central America that dream had started, beginning with the plane ride home. Always in pitch-blackness, and always he was convinced his brothers were just on the other side. This was the first time he felt he couldn't breathe.

Sighing, he held up his mended cover for inspection. Satisfied with the row of neat stitches, he put the kit away.

Wide awake now, Leo dismissed the thought of walking the perimeter as he had done before. Splinter would no doubt ask him about it and he had no desire to speak of this. He felt guilty enough at not returning sooner, the idea that his subconscious hated returning was simply unmentionable.

It would have been better if they hadn't seemed so _happy _to see him. He had left for a year, and another and had sent no word! They should have been angry. They _should_ have been _angry._

It hurt that they weren't. Don had merely smiled and given him a one-armed hug, and Mikey clung to his waist like a child, a distance between them that hadn't been there before. It was as though they were so desperate to have a family again that they would have welcomed anybody.

Splinter had only smiled in a sort of satisfied way, as if he had answered some great truth when Leo sat before him and confessed to his failure.

Raphael, though. He, at least, had been _furious_! A familiar frustration in his brother's attitude had gone a long way to bringing Leo's faraway mind back to the city, back to their family.

"Oi." A voice from the doorway broke Leo from his thoughts. Looking up, he found Raph leaning against the frame, looking about as awake as him. "Saw your light on," he said by way of explanation."

"Couldn't sleep."

"Yeah." Raph hesitated, something on his mind but he seemed reluctant to say. Leo waited patiently.

"Wanna spar or something?" he finally blurted.

Leo blinked. "You sure that's a good idea?"

Raph shrugged. "Wanna see how you are in hand-to-hand. Without a helmet blocking my vision."

"You sure that was the problem?" Leo felt a familiar cocky grin fall on his face.

Raph returned it with one of his own. "Definitely."

As he stepped past him, Leo landed a slight bump with his fist against Raph's shoulder. "We'll see about that."

End of chapter 1


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